/plɑːnt/: The Eye Witness

Sunlight. It's all I seek for. A sign of hope; a sign of care. As I sit by the puny window that has been smudged up from little Travis handprints, I would always look forward to two in the afternoon where sunlight comes by and then leaves. That's all my life ever consists of. Everyday. If only I could be able to have what those humans seem to call "feet" and find a better home where there's big windows but alas, I am all but a photosynthesis-ing living organism.

No human under this household has ever shown even a grain-size of affection towards me. I felt very oppressed when they would gawk at my dullness in disgust and mutter under their breath, "that raggedy-looking old thing." (121). I still got Mama though. She hasn't lost faith in me. Every dreary night, she'd sit right down next to me and reminisce of the past and plan for the future. I love the part when she tells me how I'm gonna have my own patch of dirt where I can freely grow instead of being crammed in this pot. Then she'll go humming that old tune that her male friend would always sing as he would painfully and slowly sit down and massage his aching bones. I don't know where he went but I hope he'll come back one day because Mama doesn't seem as happy as she used to when he was here.  

You see, that's the thing about hope. Even though I hear the same stories every single day: the idea that we will reach the goals of satisfaction; no matter how tedious and frustrating it may be, I still have this anticipation. I have heard countless sounds of mourning and disappointment, yet humans will go on with their lives and continue to fight back. What gives them the strength and energy to positively support themselves and strive to meet objectives? Then again, how would I know? I'm just a photosynthesis-ing living organism.

This is my good angle.

/kɑːnfɪdəns/: They, Too

After reading "I, Too", there is a sense of disgust upon society; a realization of how thoughtless people can be of human rights and equality. How terrible is it that this is the story we'll be telling our grandchildren. "Gather around children. Once upon a time, it was just so logical to say people are weird because they are darker than us! hohohooho". What bothered me so much was that although this unnamed man in this poem hopes for a future with no existence of racism, it still lives today. Yet he has such gleaming confidence, almost as if he is dominant over his situation. Fitzgerald points out that racism can only be overcome with confidence in order to establish dominance and control.

The typical piece of literature that is based off of the segregation of African Americans consist of

pathogens that make you want to crawl in a hole and punish ourselves for being so judgmental. 

However, this poem stood out like Moses riding on a pink elephant in the streets of New York. The unnamed "darker brother" that is featured in this poem does not take pity upon himself, nor does he make an frustrated remark onto the corrupted society. Instead, he demonstrates confidence in his ethnicity. He is actually putting pity upon everyone else for not realizing "how beautiful" he is, and chuckles on the idea of racism. This creates a sense of dominance on his side, contrasting on the limited amount of power Blacks had during that time period. With the use of rhetorics like: colloquial diction, foreshadowing and synecdoches; Fitzgerald shows that a change in attitude can flip the idea of racism and whoever owns confidence in the situation is the one who has more power redeemed within them. On this note, take a moment and visualize Moses riding in on a pink elephant.

photoshopped by yours truly.